My Book of the month for March is my time-travel romance Crashing Through Time, part of a boxed set called Crashing Into Love. I’ll be running giveaways all month involving Crashing Through Time. This week’s is a $5.00 gift card and swag from my book.

The authors in the set all started out with the premise that the hero and heroine are brought together because of a plane crash. Most couples were in the tropics, however, one was set in the Canadian Rockies, one on a “distant” island. Mine begins with a plane crash in Cornwall, England, where my American heroine soon discovers she’s not in Kansas any more!

The WINNER from the previous contest is

Lisa M!

( Lisa, I’ll be contacting you shortly.)

BLURB:

More than hearts can be broken when you crash through time.

Theatre professor Corrine MacGowan is in a sightseeing plane that crash lands in a field in Cornwall. She wanders away from the crash site, led by a strange buzzing in her head that is coming from a black well (think The Ring). She falls down the well and ends up in Cornwall in 1868 at the home of her Master’s thesis subject, playwright Sir Robert Graysill. She immediately meets Sir Robert’s nephew, Ian Hunterly, and once she comes to terms with the fact that she has fallen through time, realizes from her research that Ian is doomed to die within a matter of days. Can she save him and change history? Or let history run its course and lose the man she has begun to love?

EXCERPT:

“Damn and blast.”

The curse brought her attention to a young man lying on the ground to her left. He lay flat on his back, his face screwed into a furious frown. If not for that, he would’ve been pretty hot. Dark brown wavy hair, a ruddy complexion, and very full, sexy lips sent a little thrill

Crashing Through Time Swag: Wine Glass Charm of a Pocket watch.

through her. A typical Englishman, he even had those odd mutton-chop sideburns like

Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. Were those back in fashion over here? She didn’t remember seeing anyone else wearing them.

“I say, have you seen my hat?”

God, he had a devastating English accent. She could listen to an Englishman talk all day long. She sighed with sheer joy.

“I beg your pardon, miss, but did you see where my hat has gotten to?” He sat up, twisting this way and that, searching for it.

“Hat?” Didn’t he mean helmet? No one rode without one these days. Still, she looked around for the black velvet helmet she remembered from her senior year P.E. class.

He jerked his head toward her. “You’re American?”

“Yes.” He got that from one word? Must’ve been her southern drawl. She sat up straighter. “I’m from Virginia.”

“Forgive me. Deuced awkward to make an introduction from the ground.” He attempted to stand, and grunted in pain as he put weight on his left foot. “Oh, damn. I beg your pardon. That hurts abominably.” He hopped about, gingerly trying to step on his foot and failing.

Corrine shot to her feet and reached out to steady him. “Here, let me help.” Grabbing him around the waist, she then managed to slide his arm over her shoulders and looked for a rock or stump for him to sit on. Even the stupid well would’ve been welcome right about now.

She glanced up at him to find his eyes wide, his frown returned. He must’ve been angry with her for startling his horse. “I’m sorry I spooked your horse, but I’ve had a horrible day so far. Did you see the plane crash? I was on that. Is there somewhere you could sit down?” They’d been turning in circles as Corrine scoured the field for a place to sit him down.

He nodded across the field. “There’s a stile over there and down the field a bit.”

“Good.” She struck out across the deceivingly smooth expanse.

“Wait! My hat.”

“Oh. Right.” Corrine swung them back around toward the woods. “There, I see it. Hold on.” She disentangled herself from him and ran to a thick clump of bushes near the edge of the forest. A tall black hat lay propped on its side almost underneath the nearest shrub. She grabbed it and stopped. Not a normal riding hat. More like a top hat, actually, made of exquisite black silk, like caviar for the fingers. Very peculiar choice for riding.

Stile on path

Turning back to him, she stopped, struck by his appearance. He wore a formal dark blue cutaway coat, white pleated shirt and…was that a cravat tied around his neck? She’d seen enough portraits during her thesis research to recognize one. His gray trousers and over-the-knee boots also screamed nineteenth century. Oh, crap.

“I am so sorry, Mr….er, ah, I’m sorry we haven’t been introduced.”

“Ian Hunterly, at your service.” He shifted his weight and winced.

“Ian Hunterly? How funny.” Now that was a coincidence. “Anyway, I just realized that I must’ve interrupted your shoot. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, still looking puzzled. “We weren’t shooting today, merely out for a ride. Why is my name funny?” He certainly didn’t look amused.

“It’s just that you have the same name as Sir Robert Graysill’s nephew.” Her thesis topic and his nephew had become like family to her during the year of research. And now here she’d met an Englishman with the same name, although perhaps the name was quite common over here.

He smiled for the first time, and her heart missed a beat. The smile transformed his face from merely handsome to devastatingly sexy, as those full lips turned up the corners of his generous mouth and his eyes lit with an inner warmth they hadn’t shown before.

“That’s because I am Sir Robert’s nephew.”

REMEMBER! To enter to win the gift card, just comment on whether or not you like time-travel romances and what era you’d like to go back to?

Well, I’ve never been in a plane crash, although this story was inspired by one hairy plane ride, and unfortunately I’ve never been able to time-travel. However, I will admit that Corrine’s occupation does come from personal experience. 🙂 So fun to write!